The Prat and His Boy
by WittyNameHere1443
Summary: Owen wakes up after a night of drinking to discover a surprise in his bed. Warning: slash Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. This is the first fic I've ever posted so try not to set me on fire
1. Chapter 1

Another night, another pub, another faceless set of female reproductive organs sitting next to me at the bar. This one was called Samantha. Or was it Sarah? No, no it was definetly Samantha…I think. Oh well, since when are names important? Blonde hair, green eyes, D cups, those are the important facts. At this point in the evening I will admit I had had a bit to drink. Just a few beers, around five or six, and a few shots may have snuck in there while I wasn't looking. I wasn't completely smashed though! I would like to make that clear. I probably couldn't have explained what a cat was but I'm pretty sure I could have picked one out of a line up.

So I start chatting her up, doing the usual lines. "I'm attractive, you're attractive, I'm a doctor. Let's go do the things they tell you not to do in health class." Ok, so those aren't the exact words I use, even when that drunk, but the message is pretty much the same. I'm being a perfect gentleman and she's falling for it. I lean in to kiss her and she doesn't pull away and slap me, that's always a good sign. I ask her if she'd like to go back to my place and check out my coin collection, she says yes, and we leave the bar. That is the last thing I can actually remember. Now if somebody could please explain to me how I went from this lovely scene of me with a beautiful woman to what came next that would be fantastic.

I woke up the next morning to a feeling quite similar to what I would imagine it would be like to have thousands of little weevils running around in your skull making a mess of the place. A pain filled groan escaped my throat as my eyes tried to adjust to the horrible sunlight that filled my apartment. If some Mr. Burns-type alien ever comes round and decides to try to conquer the Earth by blocking out the sun, I think Torchwood should let 'em go. Fuck it, I'll help them. The sun is a terrible bright thing that just hangs there in the sky and makes it possible for the bastard grass and other plant life to grow. Where was I? Oh yeah, waking up.

Finally talking myself into getting out of bed, I wander naked to the bathroom to relieve what amounts to a mini bar's worth of alcohol from my bladder. I wonder back into the bedroom and notice the tufts of blonde hair sticking out from under the covers. Right, time to get the lady of the evening on her way. Now what was her name again? Damnitt! Why can't these birds where name tags? It would make things so much easier. "Hey...sweetheart, time to get up."

The sleeping body let out a tired groan. A surprisingly deep grown. She must be a smoker or something, which is kind of hot. "Come on luv, rise and shine. I have um...I have a meeting to get to." A meeting on a Sunday morning? Not one of my best lies but hopefully this gal is thick enough to buy it. The body shifted slightly but made no progress in getting out of my bed. I finally decided this one might need a bit of force so I grabbed hold of the sheets and threw them off. Now I've seen some pretty odd stuff in my life. Aliens, mutilated bodies, creepy fairy people, but none of that compared to what I saw lying in my bed. In the place where the large breasted woman should be lay a young thin but muscular blonde man. I have always prided myself in my ability to handle tough situations. So what did I do when presented with this unexpected twist? I screamed like a woman, fell backwards, and hit my head on the night stand, knocking myself unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

1I was dead, that was it, I died. That had all been a dream, or possible hell...who knows. I don't think it was hell, I wasn't that bad of a bloke. I mean, sure I had had some run ins with the law during my live. I few teepeed houses here, a few stolen cars there but you know what they say, boys will be boys and all that. But now all there was was darkness. Was this really the afterlife? Floating in the abyss for eternity, aware of everything around you but unable to touch or communicate with anyone? If I some how come back as a ghost like that creepy Eugene kid I am so haunting my priest for filling my head with all that heavinly bliss bullshit.

"Owen? Oh my God, Owen? Are you alright?"

"God?" I mumbled in confusion. Was god talking to me? And he knew my name? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? And why would god say "Oh My God"? Does God have a God? That would be weird.

"What? No Owen, it's me remember, Adam?"

"Huh?" God's name was Adam? He named the first human he created after himself? That's rather egotistical of him.

"Owen you hit your head, you need to stay awake so you don't get a concusion."

"Go away God, you're not my bloody mother."

"Owen open up your fucking eyes."

Then the bastard started to shake me. "Alright, alright I'm up." I slowly opened my eyes and instead of seeing the face of the creator I was staring into the eyes of the boy I had found in my bed this morning. "Ah!" I jumped back and ended up falling off my bed again. I quickly scrambled to my feet and ran to the other side of the room. "What the hell is going on?"

"What? Owen, calm down and don't move around so much, you hurt yourself you don't need to go making it any worse."

"How the fuck to do know my name?" I demanded, looking around desperately for something to cover my still naked body with.

"Y-you told it to me last night, don't you remember?" he looked confused and hurt. Crafty bastard, trying to make me feel sorry for him.

"What I remember was chatting up some beautiful woman in a pub and then waking up to you in my bed. Did you break in? Did you kill that girl? I'm a very important person, if I go missing people will notice." God I hope he can't tell I'm lying. Torchwood wouldn't bother to care that I was missing until the next autopsy needed being done with for all I know could be weeks from now.

"Jesus, I knew you were a bit sloshed last night but I didn't think you were a mental patient. You mean you don't remember anything about last night? Meeting me in that alley? The things we did?" he smiled playfully at me.

"Oi! Just stop it right there, alright?"

"Stop what?" Oh don't try to go all innocent now you little man slag.

"Stop...stop being naked in my room."

"Can't, you ripped my shirt."

"What?"

"Last night, when we got hear you get the buttons undone so you ripped the shirt open and broke all my buttons."

"Ok! No more talking. Why don't you just get the hell out?"

"Come on now, don't I get a chance to jog your memory?" He slowly rose from the bed and slinked over to me, grinning all the while and looking at me with these stupid "come violate me eyes." "You don't remember this?" He slowly let his finger trail from my chest all the way down to my slowly rising cock.

"Stop that!" I jumped back, batting his hand away. "I don't like blokes."

"Your cock says different."

"You touched it, if I rubbed my dick against a light post it would get hard."

"Didn't know you were into that sort of thing." God this guy was an arrogant bastard.

"Listen mate, I'm sure you have some great qualities and all and I'm sure that all the little queers in Cardiff want your ass but I'm not one of them. I like women, sorry."

"Well then you have a very confused drunken side because last night you had your tongue down my throat."

"Bullshit! No way would I do something like that, even."

"It's true."


End file.
